A Year In The Life
by writergirl2003
Summary: A year in the life of Amber Von Tussle, month by month.
1. January

Hi everyone! This is a new story I'm starting; you can probably assume how it's going to be set up. Each chapter will be one month, so there will be twelve chapters total. I'm excited about this, and I think it's going to be fun. This is going to be one of those rare stories I write where it's NOT Amber/Corny, NOT Amber/Shelley, NOT Amber/Link. Just Amber.

I don't think Amber gets enough credit on her own.

Let us begin. Enjoy!

* * *

January

Amber Von Tussle had never been particularly fond of New Year's. She didn't much see the point in it; people made foolish wishes and resolutions, only to abandon them by early February. Girls were the worst; they made empty, careless promises to themselves, vowing to make a change in their life, and yet they never followed through. They never lost that extra weight, or dedicated themselves to better grades in school. They would complain the entire previous year about the forgotten promises that were made to them; cancelled dates, broken plans, and yet, they themselves were the biggest hypocrites of all. They abandoned promises to themselves without hesitation, and Amber wondered if they realized how genuinely moronic they were by doing so. In her mind, after all, any person who was given the chance to think for themselves without their mother's inflated opinion being involved, was a lucky one. She would sit quietly and listen to the other council girls chatter about what they would do this new year without hesitation, and when the rare occasion came where one of them would look toward her for input, Amber would roll her eyes and scoff. Pretending not to care about resolutions was easier than admitting that she couldn't keep one for herself. Her mother made all of the New Year's resolutions for her that Amber could handle, and between a new diet, less sleep, and more dedication to her beauty routine, there was no room for such trivial things as working harder in school, or cleaning her room more often. Amber could only maintain the beauty of one aspect in her life, and if nothing save her the perfection of her eye make-up could be completed on a certain day…well, in Velma's opinion, that was a day well spent.

New Year's Eve was spent at her house; Amber had never brought in the new year anywhere else. There really was no point, because Velma, who always _worked_ late on New Year's Eve, and well into New Year's Day, always ordered her into the studio by eight the next morning. Because of this, Link usually spent that dreadful night with her, to calm her mother's concerns that she may sneak out to, God forbid, a populated place for a party. She and Link would chat casually and somewhat uncomfortably, and Amber often wondered what it would feel like to bring in the new year with someone that she actually _wanted _to spend time with. They would sit side-by-side on the couch, not touching, and when the clock chimed twelve, the beginning of the new year, he would kiss her softly on the lips. It was, Amber hadn't failed to realize, one of the very few times he ever kissed her in private. There wasn't much sense in it otherwise; they were each other's arm candy, and there was no need to take that a step further than was necessary.

"Happy New Year," he said the words quietly, and Amber nodded, repeating them numbly. There had never been a _happy_ year in her life. But, for some reason, as she sat beside Link, WYZT's New Year's Eve celebration blaring in the darkness of the living room, her hands folded into her lap, she felt differently. She allowed herself to study his profile for another moment in the flashing blue light of the television, let herself take a deep breath of his cologne, and told herself to take in everything about this moment.

It was in that very minute, the first one of the new year, that she decided this would be the _last_ time she would sit silently beside Link, waiting for her life to pass her by. And so, despite everything she believed, and all the things she didn't, she made a silent resolution to herself.

This year, no matter what, she would find her happiness.


	2. February

This is a little longer than the first chapter, and this will be about the length of the chapters from now on. I appreciate all the reviews I've gotten so far, it really means a lot. This chapter just kind of came to me, so I decided to post it now, but it will probably be a few days until the next one, due to school and work.

So, go on, enjoy!

* * *

February

There were so many reasons Amber should have loved Valentine's Day. It was, after all, the official holiday for _love_. Though, for some reason, she could never quite grasp it. It seemed cheap and insincere, though that wasn't to say she didn't accept what gifts she received. If there ever was a more superficial day, it was certainly February the 14th. Link usually brought her flowers to school, and she would take them graciously, cradling them in her arms for the rest of the day as if they were a newborn baby. The girls would coo over them, and she would parade her bouquet through the hallways proudly. It was, after all, her trophy for putting on such a convincing façade the entire rest of the year.

A few other boys (most of which were too intimidated by her to openly admit their gifts were from them) brought her candy, or silly paper cards which spoke of undying affection. There was always a small pile of gifts waiting on her desk when she arrived in homeroom, and though she would have loved nothing more than to tear the package open and shove one of those chocolate covered cherries into her mouth, she knew better. Most times she would pitch the gift box of chocolates into the trash can on her way out the door, rolling her eyes; letting all of them see that she wanted nothing to do with them, or their cheap candy. She could practically _feel_ the smiles on boys' faces melting as they realized it had been _their_ gift that she'd dropped into the waste basket. This gave her a sick sense of satisfaction, though she would never admit, to a single soul, that all of those cards; the ones sent by lovesick teenage boys, stayed tied in a growing bundle in a wood chest in her room. And often, when she was feeling unhappy, sad, or neglected (which was all too often), she would reach into that chest, and pull out those cards. They smelled like cedar, and were usually signed with a scribble of a name, perhaps a few words were even misspelled. And still, when she read those cards in the quiet of her bedroom, they reminded her that someone still cared about her. And that was all she ever really wanted, or needed, to know.

She had always gone to the Valentine's Day Hop at school, though more than anything, it had been a wish of Velma's. Of course, Amber had gone to every dance since she'd been thirteen. She'd won every title, danced with every cute boy. She'd spun, and twirled, grinned and giggled until her cheeks were flushed and she felt dizzy. Everyone who saw her assumed she was having the time of her life, and, to most, she was. There was no reason to be unhappy, not with all that attention, all of those tiaras and jewels and slow dances. And yet, every year, for the past four years, when she'd returned to her home _after_ the dance, nothing stuck out in her mind that made it a particularly amazing evening. Her mother would prod her for details, hunched over in anticipation, perched upon the edge of her bed as if she were a sixteen year old girl, begging to hear the story of a friend's first kiss. Amber would humor her, and often embellish her story; she had grown quite good at figuring out what to say to please Velma. Velma would squeal and giggle, and if only for that brief moment in time, she would let herself feel connected to her mother, and allow herself to believe that they could have this type of relationship all through the year, not only when Velma believed Amber was turning into the girl she'd always wanted for a daughter.

This particular year, and keeping with the vow she'd made herself the previous month, she decided against going to the hop. Instead of going after school to get her hair, nails, and make-up done, she returned home. Velma wasn't there; of course she wasn't. Amber had learned at an early age that it was silly to ever assume her mother would be home. Not that she could blame her. It was the same for both of them; when they were in public, they were strong, bold, and powerful. They could intimidate anyone with a simple glare, make any person tremble in the knees. And yet, when they were at home, in their overly extravagant house, they were nothing but people. Two women, one a miniature version of the other, alone in the world except for the two of them. No husband, no father, nothing save the power that both of them reserved for school and work. It wasn't hard to understand why either of them preferred to be in public.

She spent the evening watching television, and then, just around ten o'clock, she showered and slipped into a soft nightgown and climbed into her bed. She hesitated for a moment, and then padded over to her purse, hanging from a chair's back. She let her fingers dip inside, and retrieved the small pile of cards that she'd received just earlier that day. Link's flowers were still there, in the vase upon her dresser, and her eyes fell upon them as her fingers brushed something else in her purse. It was a small box; one she hadn't noticed before, and she pulled it out. A small box of chocolates, wrapped with a thin white bow.

Amber narrowed her eyes at the box, and grasped it in her fingers. She had already decided, in the back of her mind, that it was bound for the garbage, but in another moment, she had changed her mind. She slipped quickly into her sheets again, switching on the small lamp next to the bed. She spread the cards over the blanket in front of her, observing them for a moment before turning her attention to the box of chocolates. Slowly, she slipped the ribbon from the box and opened it, her eyes falling over the candy inside. It took a moment for her fingers to move, but slowly, she reached into one of the spots, retrieving a small circle of chocolate.

It was wrong, yes, and her mother would have been ashamed of her for even contemplating taking one bite of that damning dessert, but at this moment, she couldn't begin to convince herself that she cared. She slipped the candy into her mouth, and with one bite, a burst of chocolate and cream exploded in her mouth. She chewed, making each bite last longer than the next, and sighed happily as she swallowed.

She ate one more chocolate, then another, amidst the piles of cards that dripped with artificial love and sugary sweetness. The chocolate was so rich that it made her mouth hurt in the most pleasurable way imaginable. She swallowed, then ate another, and eventually, finished all eight pieces of candy inside the box. She felt bloated, full, and, for the first time in a long time, completely satisfied.

It was right then, during the month of February, that the first part of her resolution fell into place.

Amber had finally realized what it was to begin to love herself, even when no one else did.


	3. March

Thanks for the reviews, everyone. It means so much, and I'm glad you're enjoying this story so far. It's fun to write.

* * *

March

For all it was worth, Amber's birthday was in March. When asked (though that was a rare occasion) she would say that her birthday was nothing special. It was just another day; just one more day that made her a year older. Another day that reminded her that she was slowly losing her youth; maturing into the adult that Velma had always wanted her to be, even as a child.

Contrary to popular belief, her mother didn't neglect her birthday. In fact, Velma got more excited over the day than Amber herself did. Every year was a huge party; one bigger than the next, and this year would be the crowning glory of parties, because _this_ was the year Amber turned eighteen. Every year, every second of every day had led up to this, though each individual had different reasons. Amber's reasons were obvious; she was of legal age, she could move across the country, live on her own. She could quit school, disown her mother. And though she had no intention of doing any of the above, the knowledge that she _could_ was still a comfort, and one she would come to rely on when things became difficult between her and Velma.

Her mother's reasons for her celebration were mostly self-involved, and everything that a person would have expected of Velma Von Tussle. Eighteen meant that Amber was eligible to enter into the Miss Baltimore Crabs pageant, and, because it was Amber, there was no doubt in Velma's mind that she would take that crustacean crown. She also realized that now, Amber was legally an adult, and that meant she could keep her at the studio each night as late as she wanted, without worrying about those pesky child labor laws. Despite the fact that dancing wasn't technically a _job_, Velma made sure that it became one.

Amber had been the one forced to parade the hallways at school, slipping thin envelopes containing invitations to her 'birthday bash' into the lockers of girls and boys alike. She'd forced a tight and superior smile upon her pink lips as she handed out each precious invitation like a golden key; she could see the envy in the eyes of those who didn't receive an envelope, though, more than anything, she envied _them_. They wouldn't have to be subjected to the splendor of Velma dressed in her finest clothes and jewels, promoting Amber like a store opening. It was a rather sad event, and Amber would have preferred to be almost anywhere than her own birthday celebration. Still, if there was one thing Amber was good at, it was pretending to be happy, and she allowed herself to chat excitedly about the upcoming party with Tammy and Lou Ann at lunch. She answered the questions that the select attendees had, and giggled playfully when the boys asked her if it would be a make-out party. She would blush, slap them playfully on the arm, and tell them not to forget a gift. Feigning excitement was the only way to make it through the day.

Upon the arrival of that dreaded day, Amber slipped into her finest new dress, let her mother tear the brush through her hair and pin it into a painful new style, and went to school. The hallways were abuzz with talk of the party that evening, and she let herself join in on the conversation, ignoring the bundle of nerves in the pit of her stomach as she spoke. None of them realized, as they spoke excitedly about that evening, that this was _not_ Amber's birthday party; this was the culmination of eighteen years of work for Velma, and that fact would _not_ be overshadowed by something as silly as the birthday girl herself.

The party began at eight o'clock that evening, and Velma had arranged for it to take place at WYZT, on the very stage where they danced every afternoon. She'd hired professional decorators to hang crêpe paper and banners, balloons and crystal decorations that caught the reflection of the studio lights and sent a shimmer of pink over the walls and ceiling. Even Amber had to admit, it looked beautiful. The studio lights had been dimmed, and the room swirled in shades of pink and lilac. Upon entering what was, by day, the sound stage, Amber realized that the hours spent applying make-up would be in vain. Probably much to the chagrin of Velma, it was too dark to see lipstick, rouge, mascara. The beautiful and the plain became one in the darkness of the dance floor.

Velma had made up the guest list, consisting of each council member, and the few chosen students whose parents were lawyers, doctors, politicians. They would all benefit Velma some day in one way or another, and she wanted to be on their good side. Some of the students, Amber didn't even know. However, she had known since the beginning that this was more Velma's party than her own, so she didn't complain when unfamiliar people began to pile into the studio.

Thankfully, Velma had hired a disc jockey in lieu of forcing Corny to spin records for the length of the party. On top of everything, Amber wasn't sure she could deal with his judgmental eyes watching her, hating her for everything she had, and everything she was, when in reality, she had less than any of them. Sure, materialistic things were fun, and she wouldn't deny that she'd always appreciated the finer things in life, but those things couldn't keep you company when you felt alone. They couldn't dry your tears when you cried; they couldn't mend a broken heart. They just _were_; there had no depth, no soul. That was, perhaps, why so many people associated her with all of the fine things she had. They were both viewed as a complex toy placed only on this earth to take up space, both were completely void of emotion. But she, Amber Von Tussle, knew better than that. From that moment in her bed last month, when she'd swallowed that final piece of chocolate, she'd known that their words didn't matter.

Link took her hand, and led her to the dance floor. He cradled her during the slow songs, twirled her during the fast songs, but his heart was not with her. He was courteous, but distant, and when he pulled her close to him, she didn't feel his heart beating like mad with passion for her. And though part of her _missed_ that feeling of being romantically connected to another person, another part of her realized she had never really experienced it in the first place, and it was damn near impossible to miss something that you'd never had to begin with.

There was the inevitably tacky chorus of Happy Birthday, sung by the council members in a sweet harmony that made her wish each of them had a chance to sing on the show more often. Shelley stood in the front of the crowd, her arms crossed over her chest, studying her under a pale gaze. She did not sing, and Amber pretended not to notice. There was no cake, of course, but it didn't stop Amber from making a wish. A wish that, if only for a moment, she could trade places with any one of these girls. A wish that she could have a little sister, a varsity sweater that belonged to her boyfriend. A wish that she could trade a night in her silk sheets to wake up in the morning and eat breakfast at a table with a family that didn't care if she didn't feel like dancing that day. Those, of course, were things that she could never have, and that was why they were merely wishes.

She wasn't sure how or why, but a massive conversation broke out among the party guests. One by one, the guests joined into a huge circle. Each of them had stories, jokes, sly observations about teachers and classes. Velma had disappeared into her office at the back of the studio, to do only God knew what, or who. Amber stood outside the great congregation at first, her arms crossed over her chest, her brows furrowed. She knew her mother would have a conniption fit if she saw all of them over _there_; ignoring her, on her birthday of all days. At first, she had no intention of joining into their circle; she had always been an outsider to them, why should this be any different? Though, as time progressed, and the laughter became louder, deeper, more sincere, her determination began to waver. For once, it became obvious that they weren't trying to exclude her. More than anything, she was excluding herself.

When Lou Ann made a humorous remark about their English teacher, Amber shot back with a quick-witted comment. She expected there to be an awkward silence following her words, or a moment of uncertainty between the group of them, but another council member agreed with her instantaneously, and then, just like that, she was into the conversation.

She let herself talk and laugh with the rest of them, and for the first time, she felt no different than any of them. She really _could_ talk to other girls (and boys) without coming off as narcissistic and snooty, and this self-discovery went over surprisingly well. The conversation progressed, and suddenly they were discussing their childhoods, grammar school; a memory of their lives before dancing was all they knew. Cartoons they'd watched not so long ago, toys that had been their favorites. It was a wistful moment between a group of young people that had grown up so fast, without really realizing it.

When the conversation finally broke and the group moved back to the dance floor, the air had changed. It was no longer stuffy, tense, or frightening. There was more fast dancing, less slow, and everyone seemed to have loosened up. Amber let herself joke and laugh with her peers, and forgot about the fact that her hair had begun to fall from its intricate style.

And in the irony of ironies, it was the night in March that Amber legally became an adult that she allowed herself to feel like a child, for maybe the first time ever.


	4. April

Thank you for the reviews, everyone. I really appreciate them.

* * *

April

Amber had failed first grade. It wasn't something she was necessarily proud of, but it also had been out of her control, as a six-year-old. She'd been perfectly caught up with the rest of her class; she could make her letters and numbers just as straight as any of the other children, but with lack of familial help when she went home each evening, her progress halted, and her grades began to suffer.

She got high marks on all the self-sufficient things she was supposed to be learning; she knew how to tie shoelaces, even though she was never allowed to wear shoes with laces. She knew how to button and zip her dresses, give herself a bath, and hop on one foot for hours at a time. Her fine and gross skills were beyond compare, but she had trouble concentrating on her school work with so many things going on in the world around her. Velma had no interest in helping her with homework; she had been, at that time, too preoccupied with the idea of competing in another pageant; one that was only open to women thirty five and under. That year would be her last chance to compete, and she spent every free moment in the den that she had converted into a make-shift dance studio. Velma's gaze would remain fixed on the wall of mirrors in front of her, studying her poise, her balance, her posture. Amber would find a spot near the back of the room, and watch her with wide, fascinated eyes. Even she could appreciate her mother's beauty, and whether it was because of her childish optimism, or the fact that Velma repeated it aloud to everyone listening, there was no doubt in Amber's mind that Velma would win this pageant. She would emerge victoriously with a trophy, and a beautiful tiara, and she would smile, and hug Amber, and everything would be good again. Velma ended up losing the pageant, and, because of the lack of help Amber had received during her mother's pageant run, she failed first grade. Amber didn't understand what it meant at the time; all she really knew was that both of them had failed. She had never told anyone she'd failed the first grade, and none of her classmates remembered the day she had been thrust into their class, and for that, she was grateful. She knew they all assumed, and wondered, but none of them had the nerve to ever ask her such a question.

It was also in the first year of first grade that her father mysteriously died, and Amber had difficulty coping with it. Her mother moved on quickly, and seemed to have forgotten that the child had lost her father. There were no tender hugs, no holding her when she cried at night. Soon after, the parade of men began. In and out of their home at all hours of the night, Amber would lie awake in bed listening to the noises that came from the other side of the wall. Though Amber didn't understand at the time what those noises were, she did understand that her mother was a goddess. She had beautiful blonde hair, long thin legs, and a smile that could stop traffic. She knew, even at the tender age of six, from the other side of that wall, that her mother's low moans were exactly what those men liked to hear. Though she couldn't yet understand the meaning of the word resentment, she felt it towards those men, for stealing them away from her, and from Amber's late father. And still, as much as she resented them, she could not blame them for wanting to be with Velma.

At that time, Amber owned a huge collection of paper dolls. Velma hated them; she stepped on them and tore them, but they were Amber's most prized possession. Each time she got a dime from anyone; whether it be a gift, or she found one on the street, she would rush into Woolworths, back to the toy section, and gather up as many as she could. Each time she returned home with new paper dolls, Velma would groan and roll her eyes. Amber learned to ignore this, because these dolls were her security blanket. Although they were two-dimensional pieces of paper, she would pretend they were her friends. She could not brush their hair, or put make-up on them, but she called the prettiest one she had Velma, and she would aspire to be just like her, and just like the doll's namesake.

Her mother must have realized her mistakes sometime in Amber's second year of first grade, because she hired a tutor to assist Amber with her homework in the evenings. He was a nice boy, probably only around seventeen, but to a seven-year-old, seventeen is lifetimes away. He was kind to her, and worked with her carefully, and she adored him. He would bring her small presents, and once, after she told him excitedly of her paper doll collection, he brought her a book of paper dolls. It was more than anything she could have ever asked for, and she vowed to herself that when she was old enough, they would get married. They could live in a house with a white picket fence, and dogs in the yard, and three perfect children. He would come home from work and kiss her, and they could eat ice cream for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. One day, though, after he and Velma retreated into her office for a _talk_, he left, and Amber never saw him again.

It was because of that dreadful first grade year that Amber was still in school, even though it was April, in her eighteenth year of life. And it was because of _that _that she was only a junior, and still had another year before graduation. She really didn't mind, though, because she was so used to all of this, her classmates, her teachers, her school, that it didn't feel like she was behind any of them. Anyway, April meant only one month of school left before summer; she was in the homestretch.

The end of school wasn't the only significant part of April, however. Because of timing and poorly scheduled events, the Miss Teenage Hairspray pageant was scheduled for much later in the month. Though Velma had been fired from the station just the year before, she had regained her position, and had been walking on eggshells around Mr. Spritzer ever since. Amber was still allowed to dance on the show, but had no realistic expectations about winning the pageant.

She stood like a show dog, dressed in a frilly pink dress, holding that façade of a smile, her hand poised perfectly on her hip. She had made it through enough of the pageants to know how to fake her way through, and it was difficult to feign surprise or shock when her name _wasn't _announced as the winner. She caught Velma's eye from the side of the stage, her arms crossed over her chest, a frown frozen on her thin lips. Amber knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Velma had expected her to win, and the fact that she hadn't showed failure on Amber's part. Still, she managed to keep that smile fixed upon her features, and when the cameras had stopped rolling, she paraded off the soundstage, and into the whirlwind of Velma's disappointment.

"You had that competition in the bag, Amber." Velma was quick to remind her the rest of the night at the studio, and the entire car ride home.

"I know, Mother." Her answer was monotone. There was no point in arguing with her. Amber had learned that by now.

"You honestly do _not_ get it, do you?" She gripped the steering wheel, and Amber knew that her knuckles were turning white. She had played this scene enough times to know every action by heart. "Amber, _you_ are what those people want! _You_ are the one that should be wearing that tiara, and sitting on that throne."

"Apparently not," she mumbled her reply, letting her gaze fall towards the road as they drove. Velma slowed to a red light, and turned to look at her.

"_What_ did you say?" It may as well have been a cardinal sin, and Amber looked toward her, sighing.

"Just…" there was no point in denying her words now, "Just that…" her voice was quiet for a moment, "Apparently I'm _not_ what they want, or, you know, they would have voted for me, Mother." She crossed her arms over her chest and looked in Velma's direction.

Velma's eyes went dark, and she frowned.

"They're idiots, Amber. They don't _know_ what they want; they need to be told what's good for them."

"Well, Mother, since that stunt you pulled last year, you're not _allowed_ to tamper with the votes anymore. I guess that cuts my chances of winning, doesn't it?" She knew, as soon as she said it, that it was a mistake, but it was too late; the damage had been done. She finally found the courage to meet Velma's eyes, then swallowed hard. Velma stared at her silently, and Amber shook her head. "Mother, I'm sorry, but-"

"You didn't deserve to win those pageants," she cut her off sharply, "You didn't do a damn thing to deserve any of those titles. I should never have given you all the things I did."

Her words cut Amber deep, and she bit her tongue for a moment as they glided down the darkness of the street. She knew she should stay quiet; it would be best for everyone involved, but she simply could not stop herself; the words were already on the tip of her tongue.

"Well, Mother," she began, her voice tinged with bitterness, "My legs don't spread quite as far as yours do, so if that's your idea of being _deserving, _I guess I'll never quite live up to your standards, will I?"

She expected a nuclear war to break out. She expected bombs to fall from the sky, expected Velma to flip the car over into a ditch and smother her with her mink wrap. She expected at least a minor earthquake to destroy the streets of Baltimore and swallow their car whole. Instead, there was nothing but silence from Velma. A silence that lasted until they got home, and both Von Tussle women retreated into their appropriate bedrooms.

Amber regretted her words, but wouldn't allow herself to dwell on them for too long. She knew that in a few days, things would be normal between them again. Possibly even tomorrow morning. Velma could never force herself to ignore Amber for too long; she was, after all, the only family she had. Amber sighed as she pulled the cluster of bobby pins from her hair, stepped out of her ridiculously fancy dress, and into the shower. By the time she pulled the sheets on her bed back and climbed inside, the confrontation with her mother had all but slipped her mind.

She managed to fall into a restless sleep, but awoke less than an hour later, the matter still pressing on her mind. She tossed and turned in her bed, but then finally gave in and climbed out of her sheets, padding her way down the hall and to the door of Velma's bedroom. She hesitated for a moment before rapping on it gently with her knuckles, then opening it quietly after a brief pause.

"Mother?" Her voice was soft, and she could make out Velma's form in the bed just a few feet away. She paused for a moment in the silence, and then pushed her shoulder against the doorframe, keeping her eyes on her mother's form. She heard the soft rhythmic breathing of a person fast asleep, and turned to leave before stopping herself. "Mother, I'm sorry."

She lingered for another moment before turning away, and then made her way back to her bedroom. She crawled beneath the covers, and squeezed her eyes shut. She had no way of knowing that Velma hadn't been asleep, and had, in fact, heard her soft apology. She had no way of knowing that she had made her mother smile, though not out of spite or evil scheming, but a real, genuine smile that had made her turn and press her face into the pillow, to deny even to herself. Amber had no way of knowing that Velma had forgiven her long before she'd ever thought about apologizing.

All Amber really knew was that she was guilty of the same mistakes as her mother. She demanded too much from herself, and from the elder Von Tussle woman. That simple acceptance of imperfection one late evening in April was something that she'd been struggling to deal with for many years. This would be the first night of many that she would no longer expect perfection from herself, her mother, or anyone else.


	5. May

Yay! I actually gotexcited to write more! I'm excited, and I'm GOING to finish this story, I promise all of you!

Thanks to Kelsey, who helped me with this chapter. You are my forever inspiration.

* * *

May

"Happy Birthday, Link." Amber forced a smile to her lips, pushing a small box wrapped in blue paper over his desk before slipping into her seat next to him. He chuckled softly beside her, and she glanced over at him, her eyebrows raised in feign excitement for him to open his gift. "I hope you like it."

This wasn't necessarily true. Amber didn't particularly care one way or the other if Link cared for his gift. She hadn't even spent time shopping for it, to be completely honest. Inside the box was a tie, and a shaving kit, both of which she'd found in her own home. The tie had, most certainly, belonged to one of her mother's lovers, and the shaving kit had been unopened beneath the sink in Velma's bathroom. She had taken both items without asking, and wrapped them in a box, covered them with wrapping paper the same color blue as Link's eyes, and now his fingers were peeling the paper from the box. She watched his face as he pulled the paper away, and pretended to smile when he feigned sudden happiness in response to her fiercely impersonal gifts. 

"A tie," he spoke each present aloud, as one tends to do when pretending to be so pleased with each surprise, "and a shaving kit. I _do_ like it. Thanks, darlin'." He leaned over in his seat and placed a small kiss on her cheek. She pretended to giggle softly for him, and nodded. 

"Welcome. Is your party still on for tonight?"

He nodded, slipping the gifts inside of his desk as students began to file into the desks around them. 

"Eight o'clock. Should I pick you up at seven thirty?" He watched her carefully, and she nodded, almost too eagerly, then pursed her lips together.

"I'll be waiting."

The day droned on and on, and when at last, she was able to return home after school, she knew there would be no rest. Luckily, there was no show today; that meant time to prepare for Link's party, though it also meant nothing to keep her mind from wandering as it tended to do when she wasn't busy. 

She showered quickly, and then slipped into her silky pink robe and found herself sitting before the vanity in her room, studying her face. She wanted to hate herself for the little dots that marked her face; the inevitable imperfections of adolescence. She wanted to scream and cry over the fact that there were small dark circles under her eyes, wanted to punch the mirror at the idea of her lips looking so pale and lifeless to her, but she couldn't. Truthfully, she just couldn't bring herself to care, and not for any mind-numbing, earth-shattering reason. Simply because she had accepted herself; imperfections and the like. She could no longer be bothered with the small break-out on her chin; all she could do was her best to cover it. If that wasn't good enough for anyone else, they shouldn't be so close to her to see it, anyway.

She applied make-up just the way Velma had taught her; despite the fact that her mother was often too vain for her own good, she _did _know how to complete a beauty ritual. She slipped countless foam curlers into her hair and prayed that they would be able to achieve their goal by the time she was finished dressing and preparing. 

It was no surprise that when Link arrived at her house, he beeped the horn of his car, and waited for her. He made no effort to walk to the front door, and she didn't expect it from him. When she slid into the seat next to him, he made a small effort to look at her, and then nodded. 

"Ready, then?" 

She pretended not to notice that he hadn't even bothered to tell her she looked nice, and nodded. 

"I'm so ready."

Link's party was at his house, and wasn't much of a _party_ to begin with. His mother had decorated the den in their house, and had hung crepe paper from every surface she could reach. As Amber descended the stairs into the den, she tried to avoid meeting Link's gaze. He seemed embarrassed by the fact that she had hung a hand-made sign in his honor, and that balloons filled with oxygen hung limply from where they had been taped into place. She felt pity for him in that moment, though also regarded him with a strange sense of envy. His mother had realized it was okay to have a birthday party without props or cameras; it was okay to _live_ in your house, and tape sagging balloons to the walls to celebrate your only son's birthday. The one time Amber had suggested having one of her birthday parties at their house, Velma had explained to her, _un_kindly, that Von Tussles did _not_ celebrate in private. The biggest deals were to be made of even the smallest things, and besides, tape tore wallpaper.

"It's nice," Amber offered, and Link regarded her with a lazy half-smile. 

"It's nothing special." He sounded so convinced of his words, and she could tell from his tone that this wasn't one of those fishing-for-compliments moments. 

"It is," she replied suddenly, catching his eyes, "Link, it _is _special." She hoped that, without having to say it, he would understand that private and intimate was _so_ much more special than extravagant and overly done. 

He nodded, then turned away, and the moment was lost.

Perhaps it was at that moment that she realized this could no longer work between them; this, whatever it was they had going on in real life. She had known it all these months, since New Year's Eve, but that moment was the deciding one. Yes, they looked good together, and yes, it felt better to feel the weight of that ring hanging around her neck than to not, but if it wasn't special, and real, and deep, it was nothing worth having. Anyone who could not clearly understand what it was to have someone honor you for merely being you, to go out of their way to celebrate your life, without caring if anyone else saw and recognized and praised them for it, was not someone that Amber could learn to empathize with. The finality of Link's apathy was confirmed when guests began to arrive. One by one, he began to pull the balloons from the wall, knock the crepe paper from the ceiling. By the end of the evening, the sign had been taken down. He was embarrassed by the fact that his mother loved him enough to celebrate without parading him about like a prize-winning show dog, and Amber found herself strangely jealous of this life that he found so undesirable. 

His mother served cake and punch, and Amber allowed herself to have some. It was the first time she'd had sweets in public in a very long time, and she felt better for it afterwards. The party was nothing like the one she'd had, and it didn't seem that the guests enjoyed themselves quite as much, but she found comfort in the fact that she could sit on the couch without having to worry about her mother walking by and pressing her bony fingers against the base of Amber's spine, ordering her to keep her posture straight.

The party lasted a few hours, and at the end of the evening, after the rest of the guests had gone, Link bid his parents farewell and set out to drive Amber home. She was in a strangely good mood (perhaps due to the punch and cake) despite the fact that there were concerns laying so heavily on her mind. Most of the ride home was silent, and though she tried to make conversation between the two of them, it soon became obvious that it was a simple waste of her time.

The car pulled to the front of Amber's house, and he turned off the car without moving. She realized suddenly that he knew. He was aware something had changed between them; he was simply waiting for her to acknowledge it. 

"This just… isn't working anymore, is it?" She wasn't exactly sure why she formed her statement into a question, because there was no room for question in her mind. She let her hands rest on her lap, and finally raised her eyes to meet his. 

He was quiet for a moment, and then bit on his lip. 

"No." She found great comfort in the fact that he wasn't pretending to be completely ignorant of this fact, and she blinked. 

"We'll still be together on the show." It was more of a statement than any kind of reassurance, and she shrugged suddenly. "We can still be friends."

She heard Link chuckle softly from his place beside her. 

"Amber, friends is all we ever really were."

"You're right." It was, quite possibly, the most intelligent thing she'd ever heard him say. They sat in silence for another moment, and she reached around her neck, unclasping the gold chain around her neck. She let her hand catch his council ring as it slid from the chain. She held it in her fingers for a moment, turning it around before offering it to him quickly. He stared at it for a moment, and then took it from her fingers, curling his fingers around it. 

"Is this supposed to hurt?" He wondered in the darkness of the car. His words were not hard, or mean, but genuine, and she turned his words over in her head for a moment.

"I think so," she nodded, her eyes narrowing as she tried to focus. 

"Does it hurt you?"

She took a long moment to answer, and then shook her head. 

"No, not as much as it should, I guess."

"Yeah, me either." He cleared his throat quietly, and they sat in silence for a moment before she moved to open her door. By the time she had grasped the door handle, he was out of the car and around to her side. She sat silently as he pulled the door open for her, and then offered his hand. She took it, and he helped pull her from the car. She smoothed her dress as her feet touched the ground, and Link shut the door behind her. 

"You've never done that before," she acknowledged suddenly, and he nodded, grinning slightly at her.

"Yeah, well, you've never been this honest with me before," he replied after a moment, "I feel like I owe it to you, you know, for all those times I didn't."

She smiled at him, and her eyes fell upon the light blue tie that hung from his neck, her lips curling into a smile at the sudden recognition.

"Hey, that's the tie I gave you," she pulled loosely at it, laughing softly.

He made an over-exaggerated shrug with his shoulders, and then shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I told you I liked it," he reminded her, and she nodded after a moment. 

"I guess you did. Well, at least I left you with something to remember me by," she teased him lightly. 

"You left me with _many_ things to remember you by, Amber Von Tussle."

They both laughed after a moment, and he pulled his hand from his pocket suddenly, the ring still in his curled fingers. With his other hand, he took hers, and turned her palm up, placing the ring in the middle of her palm. 

"And I'll leave you with this."

She glanced up at him.

"Link, you should take this…It's yours, I mean, you could give-"

"It's not mine," he corrected her quietly, "It's yours. I gave it to you. Knowing anyone else had it just wouldn't feel right. You don't have to wear it. Just save it, and… one day, years from now, you'll see it and think of me." 

She grinned after a moment, and then finally nodded. 

"Okay, I will." They stood in silence for a moment, and she began towards her house. "I have to get inside. My mother is probably watching from the window." She took a few steps, then turned. "I'll see you tomorrow? At school, and then the show?" 

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he grinned, starting back to his car, before stopping. "You know it's funny. After all this time, I'd rather fake a relationship with you than have a real one with anyone else."

She started up the steps, and then turned to watch him.

"You won't always feel that way," she promised him after a moment.

He grinned.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I'll see you tomorrow, Amber."

He was gone a moment later, and she made her way to her bedroom. After undressing and letting the blonde curls fall to her shoulders, she placed Link's ring in her jewelry box and climbed into bed. That night, for the first time in years, Amber went to sleep as a single young woman. 

It was the best night's sleep she'd ever had, and when she woke the next morning, she thought of that ring, and then thought of Link, and knew immediately that learning to be honest to herself and others was something she needed to do _much_ more often. 


	6. June

**Oh, goodness! I'm actually updating? Who else besides me is shocked? Yeah... I'm not even sure if you all remember this story, but I just felt like writing, and since I already had this story started, I'd figured I'd _try_ to finish it. It's been so long since I updated pretty much anything, and I've missed writing so much. **

**This is for Kelsey, my forever inspiration.**

* * *

June

Life was different without Link. It wasn't bad, and it wasn't necessarily good, but different. They had always maintained such a forced and awkward relationship, however, that being without him didn't really feel wrong. It was more like a new kind of normal, and definitely one that she knew she could learn to adapt to.

Amber had mixed emotions about June. On one hand, it always brought the last day of school, and that was something that everyone looked forward to. Long, hot summer nights were something that Amber had always found particularly comforting, and she often found herself opening her bedroom window to watch the street curiously on those nights. On the other hand, less school meant more rehearsal. It was true that The Corny Collins' Show took a two week break at the beginning of June, but Amber wasn't a council member; she was a Von Tussle, and Von Tussles didn't break for relaxation.

Amber finished all of her end-of-the-year projects early, and handed them in a week before the rest of her classmates. It wasn't that she was just so excited to complete them; it was simply that she enjoyed having her work out of the way, and it gave her something to keep her mind focused on. Since she and Link had ended their façade, she spent most of her nights at home, much to Velma's chagrin, she was sure. All the same, the last week of school, she did little but rehearse during the afternoons and sleep at night.

She had always hated the last day of school; it was nothing but an elongated day of goodbyes and promises to keep in touch when you really had no intention of doing so in the first place. She kept to herself most of the day, and at the very end of her very last class, a quiet cheer erupted from the students as the bell rang. She gathered her things quietly, narrowing her eyes and then rolling them at the all-too eager students who were already volunteering to help the teacher with any end-of-year wrapping up that needed to be done. Even though she was in the process of re-evaluating her life and personality, she was _still_ Amber Von Tussle, and those actions were still unacceptable.

After finding her locker, and pulling out the remaining things inside, she tucked her notebooks under her arms, and began to pull the few mementos from her locker door; a small heart that Link had given to her once, a picture of her, wearing her Miss Teenage Hairspray tiara, and a few notes from various friends. She shoved the items into her notebook, and shut the locker, turning to find Tammy and Becky, both of them watching her.

"Hi, Amber," Tammy grinned, eyeing the blonde, "Last day of school! Exciting, isn't it?"

"Oh, yes. So exciting," she nodded a little, and forced a smile to her lips, then shifted her things beneath her arm, "What are your plans for the summer?"

"I don't know…" Tammy hesitated, "I'm not sure what I'll do, with school being out, and a two week break from the show." She looked at Becky, who watched her with wide eyes. The brunette bit on her lip for a moment, "Oh, Amber, we're having a little get-together at my house tonight. Can you be there?"

"I don't know, Tammy, I'll have to see." Truthfully, she didn't feel like spending the evening with anyone except herself and maybe the chocolate malt she was thinking of getting on her way home from school, but her mother was less than happy about her recent anti-social behaviors, and had been threatening her with the promise of more practice unless she found a better way to occupy her time. She shifted her weight, and then shook her head. "Actually, you know what? I'll be there." She nodded to affirm her decision, "Yeah, I'll see you tonight."

"Great!" Tammy grinned brightly, "Be at my house at eight! See you tonight, Amber!"

Amber nodded, watching as the two girls walked away, rolling her eyes slightly behind Becky's back. The girl was so strange; she often wondered why she had ever offered to pretend to be friends with her in the first place. Between the glazed over look in her eyes and the way she watched Amber like a hamburger that she wanted to devour, it was more than just a little unsettling. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what Becky did in her spare time to achieve that dead-eyed look.

Amber turned on her heels, moving quickly down the hallway and pushing into the bathroom to check her appearance before she began the long walk home. Her movements slowed as she spotted the redhead at the sink in front of the mirror. The other girl's eyes caught hers before she turned back to her reflection, dabbing at her lipstick and narrowing her pale eyes at the glass. Amber dumped all of the items beneath her arm into the large trash can at the end of the room, before she moved to the sink beside the one Shelley had occupied, and looked at her reflection. They were silent for a moment, before Amber pressed her lips together, and, without looking at the other girl, began to speak.

"Are you going to Tammy's party tonight?" Things were always more than a little tense between them, for reasons Amber couldn't quite figure out. She glanced at the redhead long enough to watch her fingers curl against the sink for a moment, before she tilted her head slightly, her red hair brushing against her shoulders.

"Perhaps. I haven't decided yet." Shelley narrowed her eyes again, and Amber nodded, turning back to her own mirror. They were silent for another moment.

"Well, you should," she said the words awkwardly, and Shelley glared at her for a moment before pulling her purse onto her shoulder and beginning to gather her things to leave the bathroom.

"Why is that?" Shelley asked dryly, her eyes lowered to her purse as she searched inside for her car keys.

"Because," Amber stated dumbly, "It's… just the last time we'll all be together for a while." She bit on her lip; playing peace maker wasn't as easy as she had thought it would be, and was proving to be sufficiently awkward for everyone involved.

Shelley quirked an eyebrow at the blonde, before rolling her eyes.

"You mean before we see each other every day at the show for the rest of the summer?"

Amber glared at her for a moment, before allowing her shoulders to fall in a shrug.

"Fine, don't go. It's not like I care one way or another."

The corners of Shelley's lips turned up slightly, and she narrowed her eyes.

"Right."

She was gone a moment later, and Amber turned to her reflection, scowling at herself in the mirror. It was more than a little difficult to pretend to be civil when others were making absolutely no effort on their part. Still, there was an inner calm inside of her from the decisions she'd made for the past few months, and she could feel it. Slowly, it was encompassing her completely.

Amber walked home slowly, and didn't do much of anything as she waited for the designated party time. She didn't bother to primp for hours in the mirror, or search endlessly for a new dress to wear. Although, just because she was reinventing herself didn't mean she couldn't change clothes, and she decided on a powder blue dress and matching flats. She had always been known for her sense of style; a little personality make-over didn't have to change that.

She phoned her mother at the studio, and Velma was a little more than overjoyed that Amber had made plans for the evening. Velma cooed over the other end of the line, reminding Amber to freshen up frequently, and not to worry about getting home too early. Amber nodded, knowing that it wouldn't really matter if she came home at _all_; Velma herself would probably sleep at the studio. Right, _sleep._

Amber started out for Tammy's house a little before eight; she didn't mind being fashionably late, and didn't at all like the idea of showing up before any of the other council members. She didn't mind going, but having to watch as Tammy helped her parents set up decorations and set strategically placed punch bowls on the counter next to bowls full of pretzels and chips was simply too much to stand. Though, by the time she reached Tammy's house, her worries were calmed by the group of all-too familiar faces, some waiting on the doorstep to be let in. She arrived on the doorstep just as the door opened, and Tammy spotted her instantly, grinning widely as she ushered the waiting guests in.

She let a hand pull Amber towards her gingerly, grinning excitedly as she led Amber through the house.

"I'm so glad you decided to come," she smiled at the blonde, "I wasn't sure if you would."

"Me either," Amber smiled softly.

The party was something that Amber would have expected from Tammy. It wasn't complete insanity, and there was no alcohol, unless some of the other council kids had smuggled it in. Tammy was so unlike most of the council members, and didn't necessarily believe that alcohol was something that needed to be included to have fun. Amber didn't mind one way or the other, but she detested the way that people acted when they drank. It made them different; hard, or obnoxious, or even worse, it made them sad. When her mother drank, she grew weepy and nostalgic, though Velma herself would never admit to this. When Amber had been a little girl, Velma would open the liquor cabinet, have a few drinks, and change. It transformed her from the strong, resiliently brash person she was to a sniveling shell of a woman. Amber didn't know how to handle her mother's tears.

Amber stayed at the party for a little over an hour. The conversation grew boring, and most of the crowd had moved to the backyard. She didn't care enough to pretend to be interested in what was happening, but a low chant had started, and there was laughter and uneven shouts of encouragement from the other party-goers. She rolled her eyes, and stood to find Tammy, to tell her of her departure. Her eyes instead fell upon the redhead who stood with her hands gingerly on her hips, her lips pursed together loosely.

"You showed up," Amber smirked somewhat at her. Shelley's pale eyes remained narrowed at the blonde, and she shifted her weight on her foot before blinking at Amber.

"Were you waiting for me?" She asked dryly.

"No," Amber replied quietly after a moment. She shrugged lamely, shaking her head a little. "I just…" Her blue eyes glanced around the room for a moment, her voice low. "I just wish things could be different between us." It was one of the few things that Amber had yet to resolve in her life. She couldn't continue to better herself as long as there was this ongoing animosity between them, because it was all too reminiscent of the old Amber, the one she had buried and had since tried to _keep_ buried.

Shelley's lips curled into a smirk, but she didn't remove her eyes from the blonde.

"There are just some things you can't change. No matter how badly you want to."

Amber narrowed her eyes.

"I don't think this is my problem alone," she kept her voice lowered, "You don't exactly make it easy to be civil to you, Shelley."

"It's not my _job_ to make things easy for you," Shelley shot back, "I have no obligations whatsoever when it comes to you."

"Well, you know, it would be nice-"

"Oh, Jesus, Amber, give it a rest," the redhead interrupted her suddenly, "I'm so sick of this 'reinvented Amber' shit." She rolled her eyes openly at the other girl, "You're the same pathetic person you were last year. You cannot change what is inside of you." She glared hard at her, "You can't become a saint, just like that. You are not different, and you sure as hell are not any better."

She wanted to fight back. Amber wanted to grab Shelley by her hair, push her onto the floor, scratch her nails down the other girl's cheek, but she couldn't. The other girl's words were true, and she knew it. No matter how much you tried, you couldn't change the things that made you who you were. She couldn't change the fact that she was a Von Tussle, and she would never be able to completely change her personality, or the way people viewed her. It was the same reason no one saw her differently than they had last year, save perhaps Link, and what did his opinion of her really matter at all?

She pushed past the redhead and out of the house, moving casually and pointedly, as if she had a destination in mind the entire time. Her feet carried her down the block, away from all of them; the people that she had spent every day of the last three years with, and yet had absolutely nothing in common with. The people who were younger, or older; the people that knew her life, yet had no idea what it was like.

She wasn't quite sure what made her stop in front of the park, but her feet carried her closer to the swings, and, almost without thinking, she allowed herself to sit. The plastic cradled her weight, and her fingers wrapped around the cool metal chains. It felt so foreign; she hadn't sat in a swing in years, probably since she was old enough to dance. Her mother detested playgrounds, she called them poverty parks. But Mother was not here at the moment, and the way that the swing swayed in the warm night breeze was like a lullaby. Amber lifted her feet, and the swing pushed her further.

Slowly, she began to pump her legs, just as she had when she'd been a little girl. She could recall those memories; they felt warm and sticky, almost reminiscent of a life that she had never lived. She closed her eyes, moved her legs, and let the wind push her. Her blonde hair ruffled in the wind, her dress flapped beneath her, but she did not stop. Faster and higher she went, away from the ground, into the sky. It felt like flying. She was a bird who had not been graced with wings.

The darkness surrounded her, illuminated by little more than a few streetlamps, and the occasional passing car's headlights. But she would not stop; could not. It was freeing; this simple activity that children took so much joy in, she understood it now. If only for a moment, she was on top of the world.

And on that warm June night, perhaps without even realizing it, Amber had learned to find extraordinary joy in the simplest things in the world.


End file.
